RolePlayerGuilt — Roleplayer Guild

@gcold
I haven't heard back from MiddleEarthRoze since my reply in the titanpad (though I haven't checked today)but I wanted to let you know that I've come down with the flu, or food poisoning, not sure which, expect less from me till I recover, not sure how long I'll be down and out ): hopefully for the day, and not the rest of the week.@MacabreFox

The collab looks finished to me, post it if Roze doesn't respond.

And thanks for letting me know, get well soon. 

I have caught a bug as well.  Hopefully I kick it soon but the next several weeks are going to be moving my family to another city.  I will probably be mostly out of contact for three weeks or so.  With this in mind, I give permission for Utu to be a puppet for awhile so as to not hold people back.  Worst possible timing comes to mind but some things can't be prevented.  I'll get on if I can but I can't promise anything.@Haeo

No problem, Schaft and I will handle Utu-ja until you come back.

Good luck with moving.

The preludes to reconnaissance missions were always short. After all, if they already had plenty of information to act on, then why would they be out to gather them? Daelin knew this for a fact, as he spent only a few minutes briefing the scouts. Jam packed nearly to the limit, his tent housed eight people including himself, all of whom stood around a compact table with a detailed map on it. The Bosmer began making faint marks on the map, several circles were drawn for possible traps, X's were put down as locations they need to visit and arrows intercepting through it all for their path. 

“Now, we all tend to follow this trail when we go down there. So we will follow it and search for Felix throughout.” Daelin traced his finger along one arrow and stopped on several crosses on the way. His hand paused at the middle of the map, where a thin blue line represented the river. “If we do not find any clues pertaining to Felix, we'll cross the river and continue on our original goal; to assess paths fit for the battering ram and mark dangerous hideouts.”

“Stay on the trail and maintain a steady pace, my torch will be the only one, follow close and don't step in the bushes, Y'ffyre knows what nasty traps lay in behind.” Daelin stood as tall as a Bosmer could, examining the faces carefully as he continued. “If we are under attack, divines forbid, we will retreat slowly while keeping our guards up.” With that, he left the map out for a last glance before folding it neatly inside his jack pocket. Questions were not bothered to be asked, Daelin thought they would just have to improvise, if things go wrong.

Bow slung and a quiver of twenty arrows tied to his belt, Daelin led the group out. On his way, he saw Edith and Sadri walking towards Jonimir's post. They exchanged nods, silent signs of good luck. 

Descending from their hill top camp was routine for Daelin. But Keegan, who was not so much athletic and used to nighttime hiking, stumbled on the rocky surface. He fell forward, but thankfully, halted himself against the scaly back of Utu-ja. Keegan's face reddened with embarrassment, only if they could he him under light. “Sorry,” His apologized meekly. 

Once they reached the valley floor, Keegan decided to bring out his staff for support. It would be a makeshift alpenstick, albeit at the cost of the staff's durability. The Altmer mage lingered in the rear, where torchlight was a good distance away. It was nearly pitch dark, and even his fingers were barely visible. That said, they were audio and aromatic presence where visuals lacked. The wind whistled around them, nestling soft chafes between leaves. The air was no doubt cold, but to Keegan it always smelled of the wild; a natural scent of juniper ever so present in every part of the Reach.

First ten minutes were uneventful, Maduras even talked and took notes, somehow writing despite near darkness. Daelin allowed him to talk, they were close enough to camp so that the fires were still distantly visible; it wasn't dangerous enough yet. But a while longer into the journey, when shrubs from both sides draped closer on the trail and it was barely wide enough for three men. Daelin, who was leading with Farid on his side, held up his left hand just above his shoulder, it balled into a fist, telling those in the rear to cease moving forward. There were apparently creatures moving, so Farid hushed Maduras and took the torch himself. Daelin's bow was now in hand, and an elven arrow notched against the bowstring. It was aimed to the bush on their right.

A figure leaped out of the undergrowth, it was a fox. When its scuttling feet passed the trail, Daelin relaxed, returning the arrow to its quiver. 

“It must be thanking you for its life right now.” Farid commented while returning the torch to the lead scout. 

“And thanking you for your amusing comment.” Daelin duly noted. Though his ammunition was no longer primed, he still held the bow firm in his hands. “Stay focused.” He ordered. So they did, and after inching forward for no more than fifteen steps, they stopped once more. Are there enemies around? No one, not even Daelin was certain. The environment just had a tense aura, it felt like someone was shadowing their journey.

“Witchmen?” Farid whispered, dark skin gripping sheathed shortsword.

“No,” Daelin shook his head. He stood to full height and waved for the rear guard. “Come and look at this, on the ground.” 

From the back, Keegan came forward. What he saw under the torchlight were dirt, while the dirt differed little on the surface, actually treading atop revealed it to be softer and of looser grains. In essence, it would be easier to leave prints on this part of trail, as the eight of them already had. But Daelin was pointing to something, a pair of faint troughs against the dirt, and it looked quite recent.

“Someone was being dragged this way.” Daelin concluded. “Likely Felix, likely towards their redoubt.”

“What's that-” From the back, Maduras had yet to follow the others. He was instead gazing to the trail sides. When the scouts were busy examining the tracks, the Dunmer decided he found something in a bush nearby that's worth a look. No one was telling him to do what he's not supposed do. So he did it.

Clank

“Ah!” By the look of it, Maduras merely wandered several feet off the trails. By the sound of it, metal just met flesh. Daelin was quick to act. Immediately after Maduras had stepped on a trap, Daelin already pounced on top of him like a sabrecat, and covered his mouth tight, preventing anymore loud screams.

“Scream again and you give us all away.” Pressing his palm into Maduras' twisting face, Daelin hissed. Maduras was on the ground and iron spikes from a clamp embedded inside left ankle, he gagged and struggled, without result. “I'll release you but you can't scream, understood?”

Maduras nodded, tears streaming down his face due to shear pain. On the trail adjacent to him, Keegan and Farid both stood with their weapons drawn. However, the night was still eerily quiet, save for Maduras' choked sobs. 

“Two of you, here, now!” Daelin called. Maybe he didn't say it loud enough, or perhaps no one quite grasped what happened yet; nobody came over. Keegan and Farid exchanged a glance together, staff and swords still held on the trail as if anticipating a fight. “Damn it, Farid, Jorwen, Utu, anyone?” 

“Go!” Keegan urged, nudging Farid away. “I'll keep watch.”

Luckily, Farid and another arrived quickly. With them holding Maduras steady, Daelin set to work on cutting away loose trouser and examining the wound. Fortunately, the spikes weren't buried very deep, and the bleed didn't look severe either.

“Lucky for you, it was deer trap.” The Bosmer said. 

“Beginner’s luck.” Maduras uttered. He cried, well, less now. 

“I wouldn't go that far.” Farid returned.

“Alright, you two hold him down while I get his leg out.” Pointing to each of the Dunmer's shoulders, Daelin ordered the scouts. Once they secured Maduras in place, Daelin stripped off one glove and placed it on Maduras' chin. “Bite on it.”

Slowly but surely, the spikes went out of the leg. As expected, spurts of red liquid began flowing out. Daelin had already in place a piece of cloth, and rapidly pressured it against the wounds. This makeshift bandage wouldn't hold for too long, so they'll need a dedicated healer. Maduras seemed to agree, as his teeth almost chewed through the leather piece separating them.

“I guess my joy's over.” Maduras tried to stand, but he stumbled awkwardly and fell back in a lump. “And my walking ability too.”

“That's not certain, it did not sink too far.” Daelin responded. He went for a healing potion in his bag, wait, why did he bring two bottles of stamina potion? Must be getting loopy from sleep deprivation. “Still, you're going back to camp.”

Before they could press on, Daelin would need to ensure Maduras went back in one piece. After all, he always wanted a heroic story on the newspaper. Something that couldn't be done with the journalist bleeding to death. “Again, we need two people helping him back.” He spoke to Farid and the scouts watching the trail. “And anyone have a healing potion?”

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Suffering for Mahz's Sins

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